Frozen, all I could do is lay low in my hammock as a group of strangers walked around below me, on the hard, blood covered prison floor. "Well someone had to be here, look at all of this shit." An accented rough voice said as one of the men kicked a zombies head aside. "Well of course, it not like they did it themselves Daryl." Another one said as he looked around the cell block, searching for any traces of the one who did it, searching for me. I shifted slightly, trying to get a better view. It was all over when a piece of the wall dismantled and fell below, near a boy with a sheriff's hat. "Who's there?!" The accented one yelled and brought up his crossbow, aiming it directly in my direction. Inwardly groaning, I started my slow decent until my old boots hit the cement with a thud. With a slow turn I faced the group, tucking a lose strand of hair behind my left ear and with a sigh, stomped my heel against the ground and looked at the group.

Daryl's POV:
I watched as she slowly descended. As she turned to look at me, loose blond strands fell from her messy bun and framed her round face. When our eyes met, there was a playful glint in her bluish gray eyes and a smirk upon her small mouth. It made my heart quicken; I wasn't sure if it was out of annoyance...or attraction. Annoyance. I thought. her nose was slightly upturned and her cheekbones were slightly lifted because of the smirk. But, it just made her even cuter. Yeah, defiantly annoyance. I thought trying to convince myself. Her small frame made me wonder how she had survived this long. Then judging by how pale she was, she must not go out very often because who was that pale naturally? It made me want to protect her. Okay now, I was now annoyed at her for making me feel like this. It wasn't me. I was also annoyed at myself for letting her do this to me. What ever it was that she was doing. I glanced at the rest of her, hoping for a distraction from her piercing gaze. I got the opposite. Her white v-neck t-shirt accentuated her hourglass frame. Her black leather vest didn't help; it just made her more attractive. Her jeans were worn out at the knees and very dirty. Her cowgirl boots completed the look. When I looked back up at her face, I could tell she knew I wasn't admiring just her clothing. I tightened my grip on my crossbow in anger at myself and this stranger who was making me feel this weird feelings with out even speaking.
End

As I turned, my gaze was drawn to a man pointing a crossbow in my face. His hair fell to his shoulders and was hanging in his face a bit. Even with the hair in the way, piercing blue eyes searched my face. His skin was tan and covered in grime. I could see his jaw flex as he debated his next move: shoot me or let me live. I hope it's the second one. I saw his eyes admire me. I smirked. Couldn't help it. When he should be decided if I was trustworthy or not, he was checking me out. I took his distraction as a good time to study him. He was firmly built; I could see his muscles flexing. Even through his dull greenish gray sleeveless shirt you could see how solid he was. He wore old jeans that were just as worn as his shirt and just as dirty as he was. When I looked back at his face, I noticed he needed to shave. He had about a weeks worth of hair there. His jaw and cheeks looked as though they were carved from stone. I looked back at his bright blue eyes just as his came back up. My grin grew; the faintest blush spread across his face. He knew I knew he was checking me out. Good. I thought until he tightened his grip on his crossbow. I knew I should be worried that he might kill me, but something told me it would be alright. Maybe it was the way his eyes kept wandering, or the uncertain look on his face, or the way his body was slowly relaxing. Either way, I wasn't worried. I looked towards the rest of the group.